


In the End

by just_another_classic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, First Time, Lieutenant Duckling, Lieutenant Killian Jones, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-19
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 04:30:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6596734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_classic/pseuds/just_another_classic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This isn’t how it is supposed to be, Emma thinks as he places sloppy, open-mouthed kissed along the column of her throat. She should be asleep and alone in her own bed in her castle tower, not fumbling with the well-shined buttons of a too-stiff Naval uniform in the upstairs room of a tavern down by the docks." Lieutenant Duckling First Time</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the End

This isn’t how it is supposed to be, Emma thinks as he places sloppy, open-mouthed kissed along the column of her throat. She should be asleep and alone in her own bed in her castle tower, not fumbling with the well-shined buttons of a too-stiff Naval uniform in the upstairs room of a tavern down by the docks.

 

As princess, she is expected to be prim and proper, pure as the driven snow in all meanings of the phrase. Pure of heart, pure of mind, pure of body. Tonight, however, alcohol pulses through her veins, just enough to give her the requisite courage, but not too much to completely cloud her judgment. Tonight Killian is hovered over her, his lips reverently ghosting over her skin, as one hand skims along her side, and the other inches higher up her leg and under her skirts.

 

No, this is not how a princess ought to behave, sneaking around with a naval officer under the blanket of the night with no one else knowing the wiser. But she loves him – _truly_ loves him, she thinks – and that alone should make up for the rest, shouldn’t it?

 

That’s what she tells herself when she agrees to meet him tonight on the eve of his departure for another tour at sea. Truly, it sounds silly and juvenile, but she wants to give him a memory of her – one that goes beyond heated kisses in the darkened hallways of her castle – before he leaves for a few months on end. There’s a part of her that is afraid, that his own declarations of love for her are simply lies meant to get into her bed, but the adoration in his eyes soothes her. A man can fake his words, but he can’t fake the look of love in his eyes.

 

They’re mirrors to soul, after all.

 

“You’re thinking quite loudly, my love,” he says abruptly, stopping the ministrations of his mouth and resting his chin on the swell of her breasts. His hair is disheveled, lips swollen and red, and his eyes are the brightest of blue. He’s never looked more handsome. “If you are having second thoughts, we can stop.”

 

He begins to back off of her, even the gentleman he claimed to be when they first met. Any doubt Emma had left is erased in that moment, his willingness to walk away and care for her own feelings meaning more than any other words of devotion he could say. She’s never been one for words – a characteristic quite unfitting of a princess – so she deals her diplomacy in the only way she knows how, by pulling back toward her for a bruising kiss. (This sort of act would not work for the lords and ladies of courts, but for Killian, it is just fine.)

 

He moans into her mouth when their lips meet, and it is most glorious of noises Emma has ever heard. Deciding she wants to hear it again, she kisses him more fiercely, tongue and teeth meeting in a furious duel. She is rewarded with another breathy moan, and when they break for air, his chest is heaving and skin flushed. Emma enjoys doing this to him. There’s a certain rush of adrenaline that comes with the power of wrecking someone so delightfully that not even being a princess can compare to. The intimacy of it all is more intoxicating than the strongest of wines, and in this moment she knows she never wants to turn back.

 

They’ve kissed similar to this before, hot and heavy in the shadowed corners of her library, his hands seemingly everywhere at once. It took some coaxing to get him to that point, where he was willing to step away from the gentleman officer persona he had built for himself, and to lose a bit of momentary control, but when that control snapped, it was worth it. His hands on her breasts and mouth hot against hers set her body on fire, and even then she was reluctant to step away and right themselves. Now, they don’t have to break apart for propriety’s sake. Instead she can give into the fire that Killian had ignited with his he hands and lips, the same fire that roars inside her now.

 

“Undress me?” she asks, turning her back to him so he can undo the buttons of her dress and laces of her corset.

 

She hears a sudden intake of breath, and he wastes no time in rushing to assist her. Killian buries his mouth against her necks, teeth nipping at her pulse point as he makes short work of dress. Now it is her turn to moan, and she can feel him smile in victory against her skin. It pleases her that he wants her to come undone as much as she does him.

 

Killian fumbles with the laces to her corset, and mumbles how he wishes he had something sharp with which to simply cut it off of her to not waste any more time. The thrills her, sending a shiver down her spine that he immediately picks up on.

 

“Next time,” he promises, his breath warm against her ear. He punctuates that promise with a swipe of his tongue along the shell, which earns another sigh from her. He continues his onslaught of her neck. Emma knows she is sure to bear marks from this encounter, but she can hardly care at the moment, too lost in feeling of his lips, tongue, and teeth on her skin.

 

Finally, he wins out over the corset, the confining material slipping from her body. The moment it does, he spins her around face him, eyes widening when he sees her breasts bare and the material of her dress pooling around her waist.

 

“Gods above, you are beautiful.”

 

His hands are on her immediately, and she smiles against his lips in pleasure. He kisses her languidly as he takes his time with her breasts and learns how to best elicit a reaction from her. His mouth soon replaces his hands, as he busies them with trying to pull her dress the rest of the way down and off of her. She briefly considers the unfairness of their current state of undress – she now completely bare, and him still in his shirt and pants – before his tongue slides hard against her nipple, and she loses all train of thought.

 

“So responsive, princess,” Killian says as he grins against her breast. He does it again, and she keens in reply, back arching up off the bed for more. He complies, then moves to do the same to her other breast as her fingers card through his hair in encouragement. She barely registers his hand sliding up her thigh until he’s at her core, and she jumps in surprise.

 

“Too much?” He asks, eyes wide and concerned. He leans his body off of her, and she pulls him back in protest.

 

“Just unexpected.”

 

“It will feel good, Emma, I swear it.”

 

She nods, somewhat unsure, but leads her hand back down to her, sighing when he once again makes contact. It’s not as if she doesn’t know the pleasures of her body. She may be a maid, but she’s touched herself before, finding her release with her own hand, most recently with her lieutenant on her mind. But still, it is different with a man, when he is the one to touch and learn her body, and that brings on its own wave of nervousness.

 

Sensing this, Killian moves against her gently, rolling to her side so he can watch her reactions for any sign of discomfort. This warms her, and she feels her body relax under his soft gaze. Emma closes her eyes in an effort to focus on the pleasure, gasping when he circles his fingers against her clit. He continues his ministrations, cataloguing every breathy and moan, noting every jerk of her body and adjusts himself in response. Emma can feel the tightness coiling inside of her and pleasure building to its peak.

 

She was right. This is very different with a man – far more enjoyable and intense than she could ever dream.

 

Suddenly, he stops, and her eyes snap open in protest only to widen when she sees him moving down her body to settle himself between her thighs. His eyes meet hers, silently asking permission, and she nods. She’s read about this before in the books that her maids smuggled into the castle for her, but she hardly could imagine what it would feel like. But then his tongue touches home, and she practically screams in pleasure.

 

Killian moans in satisfaction, the vibrations shocking her. He continues the onslaught with his tongue, hard laps against her clit that cause stars to infiltrate her vision. He wraps one arm around her thighs and presses his other against her stomach in a poor attempt to keep her still as she is far to gone to keep her body from writhing against the sheets.

 

She comes hard and screams something that sounds like his name, her vision blurring and body humming with pleasure. She’s never felt like this before, every nerve frayed in satisfaction.

 

When turns to look back at Killian, he’s divested himself of his shirt, and is wiping his face with the cloth. He eyes travel down the planes of his body, admiring the smattering of hair across his chest, the hard lines of his abdomen, and the very obvious tent in his pants. The smug expression on his face quickly fades to nervousness when he sees her ogling his ardor.

 

“We don’t have to continue, if you don’t want. That was, well, that was amazing enough for me,” he says suddenly, tripping over his words. She appreciates his willingness to give her an out every step along the way, but at this point she wants to finish what they started, her body eager for more despite its recent release.

 

“If you stop now, I may die,” she tells him, and he chuckles at her dramatics. He still complies, however, his hands moving quickly to undo remove himself from the rest of his clothing.

 

She gasps when he succeeds.

 

She’s never seen a penis before, at least not one of flesh and blood. She’s seen statuary, of course, the marble is a poor imitation a man’s body. He’s large, or so she thinks he is, and she hardly knows how he will fit. She reaches out to touch him, and he hisses when her fingers make tentative contact. She strokes him a few times out of curiosity, pleased with the reactions is able to pull from him with just a simple touch.

 

“Good?”

 

“Too good,” he answers, pulling her hand away from him. Killian leans her back onto the bed, covering her body with his. He kisses her sweetly, his lips moving far too chastely against hers for what is about to transpire between them. She can feel his manhood against her entrance, hot and heavy and warm. “This might hurt, but it will get better.”

 

Emma pulls him in for another kiss as he slides into her. Killian moans at the sensation of being wrapped inside of her, as Emma tries to get her breathing under control. He feels so large, and her body burns at its attempt to accommodate to his size. He stills his movements for a moment, gauging her reactions, and begins to rock against her when she nods. Slowly but surely, the burn begins to give way to pleasure with every thrust of his hips.

 

He could get killed for doing this, “taking” her virtue or whatever it means. In this moment of pure intimacy, Emma doesn’t understand what is so wrong and impure about the dance in which they are partaking, hips sliding together to bring one another to the peaks white hot ecstasy. She’s never felt more powerful than in this moment, when he gasps out her name is short pants. She’s never felt stronger than when she meets him thrust for thrust. She’s never felt more loved than when she looks into his blue eyes and sees the depth of his feelings for her.

 

She comes quickly, and he follows not long after, her name and an “I love you” on his lips. The curl next to each other on top of the bed, their bodies too hot and sweat-slicked to slide under the sheets. Emma knows that later she will be cold, but doesn’t care in the moment, far too content to pillow her head on his chest and listen to the pounding of his heart – for her, it’s all for her.

 

Tomorrow, he will set sail for far away ports in the name of glory and the kingdom over which she will one day rule. Tomorrow, she will be alone in her bed, counting down the nights until he can once again join her, busying herself during the following days with the duties that come with being Crown Princess.

 

But tonight, tonight she is in his arms, and there is no place that she would rather be. That’s all that matters in the end, right?


End file.
